


a member of the rebel alliance, and a traitor

by ZeGabz



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, F/M, and Bellamy is a pilot, and they fight the Empire together, in which Clarke is from Alderaan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3896686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeGabz/pseuds/ZeGabz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Clarke Griffin, assistant medical officer on the Tantive IV. From the star system Alderaan. Daughter of Abigail and Jake Griffin, both members of the Alderaan High Council.” The pilot glances up from his data pad and appraises her with a smirk. “Looks like we don’t have just one princess in the Alliance.”</p><p>or, the Star Wars AU no one asked for</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a new hope

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a pet project, have pity on me. This chapter is a bit Clarke-centric, but I promise the Bellarke is coming. Oh, is it coming.

“Clarke Griffin, assistant medical officer on the _Tantive IV_. From the star system Alderaan. Daughter of Abigail and Jake Griffin, both members of the Alderaan High Council.” The pilot glances up from his data pad and appraises her with a smirk. “Looks like we don’t have just one princess in the Alliance.”

 ~ . ~

_The soft buzz of the Tantive IV’s engine’s provide pleasant white noise for Clarke as she leisurely organizes her medical supplies in solitude. She’s only had one visitor in the medbay since they left the docking bay in Alderaan, and he was only a rookie officer whose stomach wasn’t yet adapted to extensive space travel._

_She hears the familiar whoosh of the door opening, and the small figure of her princess walks in clad in a simple white robe. Clarke immediately stills, saluting her superior. Despite having lived among the royalty of Alderaan her entire life, she’s never gotten the chance to really meet the mysterious freedom fighter._

_“At ease,” the princess says with a small smile. “Am I correct in assuming you are Clarke Griffin?” Clarke nods, and the princess holds out a hand. “I’ve heard much about you. I’m Leia.”_

_“It’s nice to meet you, your highness,” Clarke says, taking her hand and shaking it. “Surprisingly, I have heard much about you as well.” Leia chuckles. “Are you needing anything, your highness?”_

_“Oh no, I was just making sure I had introduced myself to everyone before we arrived in less friendly space,” the princess replies. “And please, call me Leia.”_

_“Alright, Leia,” Clarke agrees with a small smile. The princess’s friendliness is a welcome change to the nervous tension surrounding the officers aboard the ship. Clarke understands their fear; this assault on the Empire has been years of hard work and relentless fighting in the making. A victory here would not only be their first, but it would be the first step to destroying the Empire forever._

_Leia seems to read her thoughts. “The battle we are about go go into . . . it’s a big step. I feel as if I’ve been working toward this my entire life.” She meets Clarke’s gaze, and it is only then that Clarke sees the raw fear in the other woman’s gaze. “It has to work.”_

_“What has to work?” she asks, puzzled. “This is just a battle to show the strength of the Alliance, isn’t it?” The princess looks away, and Clarke realizes she might be on the verge of knowing too much._

_“I should go,” Leia says, “I haven’t met some of the lower-deck officers. Wouldn’t want them feeling out.”_

_“Of course not,” Clarke agrees softly as Leia quickly retreats._

_She returns to her organizing, smiling at Jackson, an associate of her mother’s, as he walks in, cheerfully making small talk. She can tell he’s trying to calm her; he’s served in the medbay for several strikes on Star Destroyers and Imperial bases._

_It’s nice, but not enough. All she can think about is the sight of her mother in tears as she said goodbye, and the worry in her father’s eyes. She fears what she is to face, the imminent death that will surround her, the explosions, the shield failures, the jerking and unstable ground as the ship evades the strong firepower of the Empire._

 

 ~ . ~

 

“You were just recently assigned to the _Tantive IV_ , correct?”

“Yes.” The pilot’s eyes are dark, barely visible beneath the dark curls framing his face.

“This was, in fact, your first mission as a part of its crew?” Clarke’s eyes narrow.

“Yes.”

 

 ~ . ~

 

_When Leia’s voice rings over the coms, informing them they will reach the rendezvous point in three hours, and from there will go into hyperspace to emerge at the site of their attack, Clarke’s hands begin to shake._

_She begins to explore the ship, because for all she knows, it will be blown to bits by tomorrow. Deck 2, where her medbay is located, also contains the ship’s threadbare library, but Clarke has no desire for silence._

_She finds herself at the hyperdrive system control, surrounded by loud, arguing engineers preparing for a battle that will be torture on the ship’s engine and hyperdrive. She doesn’t intervene, just leans against a wall and observes._

_“Who the hell are you?” a loud voice demands, and Clarke is broken from her observation to a young woman, not much older than herself, standing in front of her with her hands on her hips._

_“Clarke. Who the hell are you?”_

_The woman, hair pulled back in a ponytail and dressed in an engineering uniform, raises an eyebrow. “Raven Reyes, chief hyperdrive mechanic.” Her eyes sweep over Clarke’s uniform. “You from medical?”_

_“Yes.” Clarke affirms. A woman steps forward with a gentle smile._

_“I’ve been serving here for years and I don’t think I’ve seen your face before. This your first mission?” Clarke nods, and the woman’s smile widens._

_“Nice to see they’re recruiting friendly faces. My name’s Aurora, come to me if you need anything at all. I know this ship inside and out.” She studies Clarke, eyes probing and sharp. “You’re nervous. First battles are always scary, but this is one of the most able crews in the galaxy. You’re in good hands, just as I feel we are in yours.”_

_“I’ll remember that,” Clarke says gratefully, turning back to Raven, who just shrugs, all traces of annoyance gone._

_“Cool. Well, nice to meet you, then.”_

 

 ~ . ~

 

“Would you say you know a lot about the dynamics aboard a starship? The loyalty of a crew?” The man leans forward, resting his elbows on the table between them.

“I know loyalty,” Clarke all but snarls. 

“Then answer me this: why are you still alive?”

 

 ~ . ~

 

_The battle is as awful as Clarke imagined and more. The Tantive IV’s shields are no match for the canons of the Star Destroyers, and for hours on end, she and Jackson are barraged with officers from the areas the shields don’t protect as well, with horrible burns or broken bones from cascading metal._

_Eventually, the injuries are less in number, and the faces of those she is treating look less haunted, less hopeless. Clarke slowly begins to realize that they’re winning._

_They’re actually winning._

_The retreat is sudden, and the jump to hyperspace is so swift Clarke doesn’t notice. It’s not until Captain Antilles comes over the comm that she realizes they aren’t in the battle anymore._

_“The Alliance has its first victory,” he says, and cheers ring through the halls. Clarke allows herself a small smile. “But for us, the fight is not over yet. We are currently being pursued by an Imperial Star Destroyer. Our scans indicate it is the Devastator.” The blood in Clarke’s veins runs cold, and the cheers are instantly quelled, and in that moment, she knows._

_They won’t get away. No ship can outrun a Star Destroyer. Especially the one carrying a Dark Lord of the Sith._

_It’s a strange thing, knowing her death is imminent. The fear subsides, replaced with an unpleasant numbness. Grief, too, when she thinks about Jackson, about the kindly Captain, about Leia, about Raven._

_They will all be dead in a matter of hours. So will she._

_“All officers, report to your mandated battle stations. Non-critical personnel report to your evacuation stations.” There is a slight pause, and his voice comes out quieter. “It has been an honor serving with you all. May we meet again.”_

_“May we meet again,” Clarke echoes softly._

_The ship jerks slightly, indicating they have left hyperspace. Clarke looks over at Jackson, who is typing away at a navi-computer. “We’re in the Outer Rim,” he says quietly, “Near a planet called Tatooine.”_

_“Can we contact my mother?” Clarke asks helplessly. Jackson shakes his head._

_“We’re out of range, and our long-range transmitter has been damaged.” Clarke nods, holding back tears. The Empire is even denying her a final goodbye. “I volunteered to remain and treat the wounded. This is where we say goodbye.” Jackson walks over to her, wrapping her in a tight hug._

_“It has been an honor, Miss Griffin,” he murmurs, “Your mother would be proud.”_

_“Thank you,” Clarke chokes out, because it’s all she can say._

 ~ . ~

 

“I did what I had to do to survive,” Clarke grits out, “I had no choice.” She realizes then that her hands are shaking. “I had no choice.”

“If forgiveness is what you want,” the man says darkly, “I’m not the right guy to seek it from.”

“I don’t need your forgiveness,” Clarke spits, “I don’t need to justify anything to you. You don’t know me. You know nothing.”

 

 ~ . ~

 

_Her escape pod is located on the lower decks with the rest. Clarke gathers a few data pads, some credits, and a cloak before rushing out of the medbay. Officers are rushing around her, hustling to get to their battle stations. She can hear the deep hum of the Star Destroyer, overshadowing the gentle buzz of the Tantive IV’s engines._

_When the Tantive IV is finally grasped in the claws of the Star Destroyer, all movement stops. Clarke has made it to the hyperdrive; she wanted to make sure Raven and the rest got away safely. The hyperdrive room is empty, save for one lone figure frantically trying to salvage what she can._

_“The Star Destroyer is shooting down all of our escape pods,” Raven says mutely, “My crew . . . I have to fix this, they have sensors, or they just don’t care . . .”_

_“Raven, we have to go. Now.”_

_Raven slumps, broken from her frenzied trance. “Finn was on there.” The name means nothing to Clarke, but obviously everything to Raven._

_“Raven,” she says gently, “We have to go.”_

_Raven looks up at her, eyes desolate and tired. Clarke holds her gaze. “Okay,” Raven says finally. “Okay.”_

 

 ~ . ~

 

“You think you know loyalty? You think you know what it is to be at war?” the pilot demands. “You say I know nothing, but it’s you. You’re the pampered princess who decided to play war games and failed.”

 

 ~ . ~

 

_She hears blaster fire from an adjacent hallway. Raven’s eyes steel. “Do you have a blaster?” Clarke asks. Raven shakes her head._

_“The Alliance can’t exactly afford to give its mechanics blasters,” she says wryly. Clarke concedes her point with a nod. “We’ll have to get ourselves some.”_

_Her eyes widen. “I’m not trained for combat!”_

_Raven winks. “I am.”_

 

 ~ . ~

 

“I didn’t join this fight for fun,” Clarke roars, rising so quickly her chair is pushed into the wall of the briefing room. “I joined to make a difference.”

“How idyllic,” the pilot sneers.

“You’re supposed to be debriefing me,” Clarke retorts angrily, “But all you have done is shoot accusations my way.” The pilot says nothing, for once. “Why do you hate me? I don’t even know your name!”

The door to the room opens with a quick hum, and an older man with gray hair clad in white robes walks in, eyes ablaze. “Lieutenant Blake. I do not recall you being assigned to Officer Griffin’s debriefing.” The pilot, a Lieutenant Blake, apparently, stiffens, raising his hand in a salute, which the older man waves off. “We like to call ourselves better than the Empire. Part of being better is treating every member of our Alliance wight he respect that is their due. Am I understood, Lieutenant?”

“Loud and clear, General Dodonna.” Blake exits without another word, not even looking at Clarke. The General takes his seat.

“Officer Griffin. You are already aware . . . “

“That Raven and I are the only ones who escaped? Yes.” Clarke’s hands ball into fists at the thought of Jackson’s lifeless corpse floating in space, or in the dirty hands of the Empire. She thinks of the Princess, the beacon of the Alliance, in the clutches of Darth Vader and it makes her cringe. 

“Now, your report says you and Junior Lieutenant Reyes escaped on an escape pod meant for twelve alone. Why?”

“Everyone around the pod was already dead,” she whispers, “We had to step over the corpses of friends, and we knew the other pods had already been shot down . . . and then more stormtroopers arrived and we had to shut the door because we were outnumbered . . .” Suddenly, her breath won’t come, and the faces of the kindly crew flash through her mind. “We should have fought. We should have waited, oh gods . . .”

Dodonna nods, eyes sad and understanding. “How did you manage to evade detection once in the pod?” Clarke’s mouth quirks up in the hint of a smile.

“Raven is a genius.” Dodonna nods again and rises.

“You and Junior Lieutenant Reyes behaved admirably. Senator’s Organa’s report of your intellect and adaptability were quite accurate.”

“Thank you,” Clarke says softly. Dodonna stands to leave. “General?”

“Yes, Officer Griffin?”

“I do not know if you can answer this, but what did I do to incur Lieutenant Blake’s wrath? I’ve never met him . . .”

“Lieutenant Bellamy Blake is not the only member of his family who fights against the Empire. His mother served aboard the Tantive IV.” Clarke’s heart sinks.

“What was her name?”

“Aurora Blake.”

_You’re in good hands, just as I feel we are in yours._

 

 ~ . ~

 

Clarke thinks she must be some sort of sick masochist, because as soon as she is dismissed she finds herself standing in front of Bellamy Blake’s assigned bunker, according toa  very confused Raven. A tall, dark-skinned young man no older than she is answers her when she buzzes.

“Is Bellamy Blake here?” she asks. The man shrugs.

“Who’s asking?”

Clarke rolls her eyes. Are all pilots this difficult?

“I am, obviously,” she snaps, because dammit, she’s tired and emotionally drained and she just wants to apologize. The pilot arches an eyebrow but his face relaxes into an amused sort of smile.

“Relax, Miller, I’ve got this,” comes the voice of the man in question from behind him. The pilot, Miller, steps back into the bunker, and is replaced by Bellamy. They stand in silence for a long moment, Clarke at a loss for words, and Bellamy unwilling to give them.

“I am . . . sorry for your loss,” Clarke finally whispers. “I cannot imagine what you must be going through. I wish she was on my pod. I wish I wasn’t a survivor while all of the good people on the Tantive IV are dead. I don’t . . . I don’t deserve it.” Bellamy’s eyes betray nothing, so she soldiers on. “Aurora deserved to survive. She was kind to me, before the battle. She told me I was in good hands. She was clearly very loved.”

“She was.”

“But I had to make a choice. There were stormtroopers, and they were going to kill us. We couldn’t afford to wait, we had to leave then and there. I made a choice, and believe me, I’ll live with it until the day I die.” She takes a deep breath. “I am sorry your mother is dead. But it’s unfair to want me to be sorry that I am alive.”

“Life isn’t fair, Princess.”

“Isn’t that why we’re here? To make things fair?” she implores. “I don’t want you to hate me.” Bellamy sighs heavily.

“I don’t. Just please . . . just leave, okay? I need-“

“Time?” Clarke finishes softly. Bellamy meets her gaze, eyes forlorn and angry all at once. He nods. “Then I’ll give it to you.” He offers her nothing but a minute nod, backing back into his bunker. 

Moments after his door buzzes shut, a loud alarm blares and General Dodonna’s voice rings over the comms, calling all personnel to the assembly area for an urgent meeting. Clarke darts away, knowing Bellamy probably wouldn’t want to see her face.

Most seats are filled by the time Clarke figures out where exactly the assembly hall is, so she finds a secluded, dark corner to stand in. Raven is seated amidst a loud group of technicians and engineers. She doesn’t look at the pilots, all seated together, not wanting to risk her gaze meeting Bellamy’s.

General Dodonna’s face is haunted, expression carefully blank. The entire assembly is silent before he even speaks, as if they all know his news will rock them to their cores.

“You all know,” he says slowly, “The Tantive IV’s failed mission was to recover the plans of the Empire’s deadliest weapon: the Death Star. Our intelligence has long hinted that its powers were beyond anything we could imagine.” Murmurs break out amongst the soldiers, and Clarke’s breath catches. “Today, we were proven right. The planet Alderaan has been completely destroyed by the Death Star. Incinerated in a completely unprovoked massacre.”

Alderaan.

_No . . ._

“Survival has been deemed impossible for anyone on the planet during the attack.”

Clarke hears nothing else. A ringing sounds in here ears, and her legs no longer hold the rest of her as she collapses in her dark corner. She thinks she is crying, tears surely are running down her face, but she does not feel lucid enough to know for certain. Her cheek hits the cold stone floor, and she must look absolutely ridiculous, but she doesn’t care. How could she?

Her mother, her father. The Organas, the entire planet. The house she grew up in, the fields she played in. Her friends.

All gone, in the blink of an eye.

A shadow dims what light does fall on her and she looks up to see Bellamy’s silhouette, kneeling down before her. His hands grip her shoulders, pulling her into somewhat of a sitting position. Her tears are wiped away by calloused fingers, but she never looks up, never meets his eyes. He gently soothes her, his fingers moving from her face to rub gentle circles into her hands. She hones in on the sensation, her broken mind clinging to the feeling of his fingers and she shapes he presses.

“Can you stand?” he finally murmurs gruffly. She shakes her head. “Then can I pick you up?”

“Someone else-“

“No, Princess, I’m getting you back to your bunker.” He has her off the ground before she can further protest, and it’s then that she notices Raven behind him, softly giving him directions to their bunker. Her head falls onto his chest, burrowing into his flight suit, and her mind goes blissfully blank as she falls into a restless slumber.

He avoids her like the plague after that, which doesn’t do much to help Clarke, who, without an official reassignment from the Alliance, takes to roaming around the base aimlessly.

 

 ~ . ~

 

The day Alderaan perishes, they receive word that Leia is in fact alive, having been taken prisoner, and was rescued by a smuggler and Obi Wan Kenobi, who was dead. Raven tells Clarke when she wakes up.

Raven keeps her company when she can, but she’s been assigned to the base’s technical unit and has better things to do than sit around and watch her mope. The base is busy with preparations for Leia’s return and the arrival of the intercepted Death Star plans, so Clarke finds herself at the tactical station, demanding that its Commander Marcus Kane request her assignment there.

It turns out that Bellamy has a younger sister named Octavia, who isn’t a pilot like him but serves on the ground. She’s bright and full of fire, and thank the heavens she doesn’t share her brother’s ill will towards her. She becomes the most constant presence in Clarke’s life in the days preceding Leia’s return, the only one who will let Clarke vent without pity in her eyes, the only one who seems to understand the loss weighing on Clarke and the anger coursing through her.

Clarke and Octavia both are assigned the analytics task force that will analyze the Death Star plans after the Millenium Falcon docks. Leia hands her the plans herself, quietly whispering that she is glad Clarke survived.

“The galaxy could use more people with your light,” she says warmly.

The plans are extensive, complete with notes from the architects and personnel files. Clarke quietly buries herself in the plans, studying every single inch of the battle station that destroyed the only home she ever had.

And then she sees it. She almost misses it, it’s so small, but it’s there. It’s there, and it’s so wonderfully obvious that she actually lets out a whoop of joy and punches the air. Octavia immediately runs over, and when she sees it too, she starts laughing.

“It’s a thermal exhaust port,” Clarke explains to Dodonna and Leia moments later, “It leads directly to the main reactor. One torpedo will blow the entire thing.”

Bellamy joins the team the next day.

“The exhaust port is heavily defended and probably shielded,” Clarke says, “So a major attack with our larger ships will be useless.”

“They can use their planetary ray to take out our entire fleet,” he agrees quietly, “So what do you suggest?”

“Small fighters. Teams of X-wings and Y-wings. Some will draw fire and take out TIEs but a select squadron could fit in the Death Star trenches.”

Bellamy crosses his arms. “So you’re telling me our only hope of destroying the Death Star is a pilot getting a proton torpedo into a tiny hole in a battle station that can wipe out planets?”

“The targeting systems for the planetary ray cannot lock onto small fighters,” Clarke points out, “X-wing attacks render it as powerful as a Star Destroyer.”

“A Star Destroyer with an entire fleet of Tie fighters-“

“-with no shields.”

“And a single detectable weakness two meters wide. That’s not very comforting, Princess.”

“I’m not a princess, and maybe if you were preparing to hit that target instead of trying to rip my plan apart, you would feel better.” At that, Bellamy laughs without humor.

“Where was this fire when we first met?”

“I was a bit distracted by the fact that my entire crew died in front of my eyes,” she snaps, rising, “And you only saw your pain. Not mine.” Bellamy studies her, doing that annoying thing where he refuses to react to things that demand reactions.

“When I told you I didn’t hate you,” he says slowly, “I meant it.” Clarke blinks. “I will personally recommend your battle plan to Commander Kane, and it will avenge Alderaan and my mother. I promise you.”

Clarke nods. “I believe you, Lieutenant.” Bellamy holds her gaze for a long moment before clearing his throat and looking down at his hands.

“I wouldn’t expect a medic to be assigned to a tactical unit.”

“My father was an engineer and my mother was a politician. I grew up in this rebellion, just like-“

“-the princess?” Bellamy finishes wryly. Clarke sighs, but she doesn’t feel as much of a sting at the nickname.

“Yes,” she affirms with a mild smirk. “Truth be told, I enjoy this more than being a medic. I feel more useful. Usually, once soldiers get to me, it’s too late. Here, I can ensure they won’t have to be injured in the first place.”

“Or you send them to a cold grave.”

“Thanks, Blake, I feel so much better now.”

 

 ~ . ~

 

“Your plan is brilliant,” Leia says, “Absolutely brilliant. General Dodonna plans to present it to the Alliance tomorrow. It should be in motion by the end of the week.” The princess grasps Clarke’s hands firmly. “Your plan will make sure no other planet suffers the fate of ours.”

Clarke’s team is expanded from Bellamy and Octavia when she is assigned to the Gray Team, the team assigned to taking out the defense systems around the Death Star. She is relegated to the coms for the mission, an extra eye on the battlefield for the pilots. 

Bellamy is promoted to Captain, and given the code name Gray Leader. 

The Gray Team pilots are a rugged, young collection. Leia told Clarke it was because they had the tenacity any team assigned to distracting TIEs and taking out canons would need. Raven is assigned as the team’s mechanic, along with two young recruits from Corellia: Jasper and Monty.

“I don’t think they like me very much,” Clarke comments to Bellamy one day as the team eats in the mess hall. From the other end of their table, Jasper laughs at something one of the pilots, Monroe, said.

Bellamy snorts. “They probably don’t.” Clarke rolls her eyes with a huff.

“Captain Blake, ever the comforter.” He smiles, and though it’s not the first time he’s offered her one, it still makes her breath catch a bit. They have not discussed his mother since her first day on the base, since the day Alderaan fell, and she wonders if they ever will. “It’s sunny out,” she remarks. Bellamy looks up from his meal, eyebrow arched.

“Yes . . .” he agrees, puzzled.

“It was sunny a lot.” Bellamy looks over at her, confused. “On Alderaan,” she clarifies quietly. “The snow would never really melt during the winter, even on sunny days, so I would run around and watch the ice crystals sparkle.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was nice. My mom and dad, they were amazing, you would have liked them.”

“Really? I would have liked the politicians?”

“Well, you would have liked them eventually.” Bellamy chuckles. “I always felt loved. Every minute of every day. My mom knew I loved drawing, so she would take me outside, near the mountains at sunset, every day so I could sketch. Even on days when she was tired or sick, she was always, always there.”

“My mom never was,” Bellamy admits softly. Clarke looks up at him to find him staring at his food. “She was always working, especially when she found the Alliance. But she always brought us treats home, like she was trying to make up for never being around.”

“Did it work?”

Bellamy smiles. “Most of the time. O and I could never really stay mad at her.”

“Did she teach you how to fly?”

Bellamy shakes his head. “Self-taught. I had to find work, so one day I broke into some rich crime lord’s garage and hot-wired a speeder so O and I could get around. Don’t think it was missed.”

“What planet has crime lords like that?” Clarke asks.

“Courascant. The center of all the galaxy’s shit.” 

“Oh, makes sense.”

“What?”

“That you would be from there.” 

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Left that one wide open, didn’t I?” Clarke just snickers, and they return to eating in a companionable silence.

 

 ~ . ~

 

“Clarke, you shouldn’t be here.”

Clarke dismisses Bellamy with a wave, walking up to Harper, Sterling, Monroe, Miller, and Octavia, checking their flight suits for tears and giving all of their hands a squeeze. Octavia pulls her into a hug.

“I’ll make them pay enough for the both of us.”

“Just come back in one piece,” Clarke replies with a watery smile as she pulls away. “And thank you.”

Bellamy is leaning against his X-wing when Clarke finishes her goodbyes, watching her contemplatively. She approaches him slowly.

“Thought you were going to be up there calling the shots with the generals,” he says. 

“Not before seeing my team off,” Clarke responds, eyes inspecting his flight suit before moving up to his face, set in its trademark smirk.

“We’re ready. We’ll be even more ready when you’re up in the command center.”

Clarke wants to tell him the Millennium Falcon had a tracking device on it, that the fleet’s chances of survival are probably greater than hers. She wants to tell him that if Yavin IV doesn’t exist when his mission is through, that his fire, his bravery, will have to keep the Alliance alive. She wants to tell him he has surprised her more than anything else, that his friendship is the best thing to come out of joining the fight.

“Don’t die,” she says, straightening his collar a bit. He smiles, hand coming to rest on her shoulder and squeezing lightly.

“Don’t worry,” he responds, turning to climb into his ship.

She hopes she’ll see him again.

 

 ~ . ~

 

She sees him again, and the second she does, she leaps into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, so ecstatic to see him alive that she doesn’t care if the way she wraps herself around him is inappropriate.

Reunions are happening everywhere. Monty and Miller are wrapped in a bear hug, Raven and Wick are frantically checking the ships for dents and burns. Octavia catches her eye, and just nods, eyes bright.

Leia is with Luke and Captain Solo, the saviors of the day, under each man’s arm. It’s then that she remembers she’s still thoroughly wrapped around Bellamy’s torso. Blushing, she lowers her legs and allows Bellamy to set her back on the ground. She doesn’t break away from his embrace, however.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” she whispers, more to herself than him. His arms tighten around her.

“We made it, Princess,” he murmurs. “Your plan saved the Alliance.”

Clarke knows the fight isn’t over. She knows the Empire is still out there, ruining the galaxy one broken soul at a time. She knows Alderaan is still gone, that she’ll never see her parents again. She knows that the Alliance will have to evacuate to a new base and leave this moon behind.

Clarke knows the fight isn’t over. But for the first time in a long, long time, as Bellamy holds her, chest rumbling with exhilarated laughter, and as her team, alive though not whole, celebrates this massive victory . . .

She feels light.


	2. The Empire Strikes Back

Hoth is the definition of a nightmare. Clarke can count the number of times she's felt the sun on her face on a single hand. She cannot remember the last time she had feeling in her fingers.

The landscape is barren and almost completely frozen over. A perpetual blizzard and state of freeze has kept any major civilizations from cropping up, making it the perfect place for a hunted Alliance to hide out.

"Clarke!" Clarke turns at the sound of her name to find Jasper jogging up to her, datapad in hand. She smiles in greeting, turning from her task of polishing the base's bacta tank.

"What's up, Jas?" she asks when he reaches her.

"Commander Skywalker's leading a small patrol out to set a couple of sensors in three hours," he says excitedly, "He's personally requesting you." Clarke's eyebrows shoot up.

"Me?"

"Don't get too excited, Princess," says a deeper voice from behind her, "It's only because I vouched for you." Clarke doesn't even turn to dignify Bellamy's comment with a response.

"Tell Commander Skywalker I will be there," she says to Jasper, "And try not to get too excited about talking to him, alright?" Jasper winks and scampers off to relay her message. It's only after he's left that Clarke turns to face Bellamy, wearing his ever-present smirk. "I can assure you I was on Skywalker's radar long before you vouched for me," she snaps.

"Oh yes, you with your years of field work and fighting experience were on the Commander's radar," Bellamy agrees mockingly, "Sure, Clarke, sure." Behind him, an officer monitoring data coughs, trying to hide a chuckle.

"You obviously vouched for a reason," she retorts before arching an eyebrow, "Unless you just wanted to spend some more time with me?"

"Dream on," Bellamy says with an eye roll. "Now come on, we need to get prepped and I know you hate being late."

"How considerate," Clarke mutters, elbowing Bellamy in the side as she passes him.

Their speeders aren't yet in commission, having issues adjusting the Hoth's frigid climates, so the Alliance has taken to riding Tauntauns. And although Clarke finds them incredibly adorable and tame, they also take time to saddle up and can only be out in the elements for so long before freezing to death.

Clarke herself has to add layers of thermal layers to her already thick ensemble. Alderaan might have had its fair share of snowfall, but even its coldest winters now seem mild compared to a single day on Hoth.

"So you talked to Skywalker, I presume," Clarke says. Beside her, Bellamy nods.

"He and Captain Solo are running this mission," he says, "It's a bit useless if you ask me, but it's that or try and get the damn speeders to work."

"The sensor data is important," Clarke points out, "Especially for Raven's team. If we can't see what's out there, how can we see what's coming?"

Bellamy shrugs, but Clarke feels like she's won this exchange, so she lets it go, sliding into a comfortable silence.

The mission is as easy as any mission during one of Hoth's blizzards can be. Bellamy hovers near Clarke for the first half of it until Captain Solo snaps at him to stop babysitting his girlfriend. Clarke tries to stammer that they're not actually-well, they don't even-they're not that close, really, but Commander Skywalker tells them all to stay on-task with an amused snicker.

Clarke places her sensors, meeting back up with Bellamy and Captain Solo near the East Ridge. He informs them Commander Skywalker was doing some further investigating and they should report back to base.

Octavia's waiting for her when she steers her Tauntaun back into the base, and helps her unpack, chattering all the while about nonsensical happenings around the base. "Oh, and Clarke, you're good at keeping secrets, right?"

Clarke thinks about Leia showing up at her door, on the verge of tears, confessing she was tortured on the Death Star and doesn't know how to stay strong when all she sees when she closes her eyes is Vader, and needles, and pain.

"Yes," she replies.

Octavia blushes, pulling Clarke over to a more secluded corner of the hangar, near the hangar doors. Clarke pulls her coat around her frame tighter as the harsh wind from the outside blows in.

"What's up?" Clarke asks. Octavia glances behind her before moving her face slightly closer, speaking in a hushed tone.

"I met someone," she says hurriedly, biting her bottom lip. Clarke arches an eyebrow. "A male someone. He's a pilot."

"Oh?"

"You might know him."

"Might I?"

"It's Lincoln."

"LINCOLN?!" Clarke squeaks, and Octavia practically tackles her deeper into the corner. "The Zabraak bounty hunter from Tanaab?"

"Shh!" Octavia hisses, "We're keeping it quiet, because whatever we have is new, and it's fragile, and I don't want anything messing it up."

"Like your brother?" Clarke guesses. The other girl nods.

"He doesn't trust Lincoln because of the whole ex bounty hunter thing." Octavia's eyes go round. "Please, please don't tell him. I just had to have someone to talk about it to."

"And you chose me?" Clarke asks. Octavia grins.

"Well, yeah! You're my best friend!" Clarke can't help it; she pulls her in for a hug.

"Your secret's safe with me," she murmurs.

 

~ . ~

 

That night, Commander Skywalker goes missing, and Captain Solo goes after him into the dangerous night.

Clarke finds Leia, thinking she might need someone to talk to, but the princess quietly asks to be left alone for the night, so Clarke is left wandering the base aimlessly. Bellamy finds her when her wandering takes her to the Command Center.

She knows he's concerned, because once Bellamy Blake begins to care for you, he never leaves, but she doesn't acknowledge him, approaching Harper, who's on monitoring duty.

"Any word from Captain Solo?" she asks. Harper removes her headset with a grim expression.

"The blizzard is interfering with our comm signals," she huffs, "Nobody can get through to him, even if he did manage to find Commander Skywalker."

"Damn," Bellamy mutters.

Clarke squeezes Harper's shoulder encouragingly. "You're doing good work here, Harper. Don't lose faith. You know how scrappy the Captain is."

"Of course," Harper agrees with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Clarke-er, Lieutenant Griffin."

Clarke rolls her eyes at the formality, but gives Harper one more smile before leaving her to her work. She makes toward General Reikin, to ask for a task, but a hand firmly grabs her forearm, pulling her back.

"Bellamy, let me go," she snaps, but Bellamy's grip remains firm. "What?"

"You need to slow down."

"Says the base's biggest workaholic," she scoffs, but he doesn't relent, nor does he let go of her arm. She stops trying to pull away and sighs.

"There's nothing more we can do for the Captain and Commander."

Clarke sighs. "I am well aware."

"But is there anything  _I_  can do for  _you_?" Clarke looks at Bellamy in surprise, to find him earnestly staring her down, eyes round with concern. She offers him a shaky smile and gently pulls her arm from him.

"I can manage," she replies softly, turning and walking before her mind can begin to wonder how far he would actually go for her.

She sleeps fitfully, chest tight with worry over Luke and Han, but halfway through the night, Bellamy pokes his head into her bunker and asks for some help analyzing data on the Empire's latest probe models.

(the bags on his eyes suggest he can't sleep either)

At first light, Leia sends a search and rescue (nobody dares suggest they call it a recovery mission) team out in their speeders, which are finally starting to adjust. Clarke reports to the medbay, in case Skywalker or Solo suffered any injuries. Bellamy and Octavia take one of the speeders out.

She senses someone lingering at the entrance, and turns, almost expecting to see Bellamy and his usual worried face, but is surprised to see Lincoln standing there, most of his tattoos covered by his insulated jumpsuit. He looks almost human, save for his short, pointed horns on the top of his head.

"Octavia told you," he states simply, not moving. Clarke blinks, startled.

"Yes," she says, because she honestly has no idea how else to respond.

He studies her. "Many would not approve because of who I was." He tilts his horned head to the side. "What I am."

"There is . . . nothing wrong with inter-species relationships," Clarke stammers, "I mean, scientifically, there is no proof that either party will-"

"Thank you," Lincoln interjects, saving her from what was likely going to be an embarrassing ramble. She smiles gratefully. "I can see why Octavia holds you in such high regard."

Her smile widens, and she lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Likewise."

Lincoln fully enters the medbay then. "I was sent here with a message from Command." Clarke sits straighter. "They found Skywalker and Solo alive."

"Thank the Force," Clarke breathes, "That's wonderful news."

"Not quite," Lincoln says quietly, "Skywalker is suffering from severe hypothermia. His condition is critical." He eyes her. "I am well-versed in medicine. I am to help you stabilize the Commander. Are you prepared?"

Clarke may be a novice in battle, a merely mediocre pilot, and a lousy scout, but if there is one thing she can do without fail, it's save lives.

"Yes."

They bring him in minutes later, and he looks nothing like the vibrant, cheerful pilot she knows. His skin is almost blue in hue, and his body is covered in scratches and bruises.

"Prepare the bacta tank," Clarke orders Lincoln, "I want it ready for full submersion in five minutes." Lincoln nods and goes off to the machine. A few aides bring Clarke some creams and tools, and she sets to work.

"You smell awful," she tells the unconscious Skywalker, "I guess that's the price of survival though, huh?" She begins stripping off the layers of pungent clothing, until he's left only in his briefs, and begins to gently stitch together a wound on his face.

"The tank is ready," Lincoln announces, already at her side to lift him into the tank. She straps the breathing mask onto his face and steps back as Lincoln lifts his body and fit it into the harness before finally submerging him.

Clarke sits at the programming panel for the bacta tank, and begins administering treatment. The bacta does wonders, but in many cases, other medicine is needed. She injects him with an anesthetic, to keep him from waking and panicking until his body is ready, and vitamins to help rebuild his strength.

Leia enters, sitting down beside her wordlessly.

Clarke glances over. "He is stabilizing quickly," she says soothingly, "He should be out of the woods in no time."

Leia returns her gaze, smiling gratefully. "You are a wonderful doctor, Clarke." Clarke ducks her head.

"I do what I can."

When Luke is finally, blessedly, stable, Clarke allows herself to be relieved by another medic, going to the mess hall to get food. She realizes she hasn't eaten since Luke and Han went missing, and hasn't slept since before her patrol.

The halls seem to wobble; get wider and then narrow with every step she takes. Her ears buzz, a gentle hum and then a loud, resounding ring, and her vision blurs. The ground gets closer and closer, and then everything goes black.

 

~ . ~

 

"I can manage? I can manage  _my ass_ ," is the first, angry thing Clarke hears when her eyes flutter ope and she finds herself in an unfamiliar bed. She blinks rapidly, clearing sleep from her eyes, and sees Bellamy glaring at her icily.

"What happened?" she asks.

"I go looking for you only to find you passed out in the South corridor like a dead woman, that's what happened," Bellamy snaps, "And I will bet the fate of the Alliance that it's because once again, you thought you didn't need food or drink or sleep like the rest of us."

"I was busy saving a life, thank you very much," Clarke retorts, sitting up slowly, "And my head also really hurts, so if you could just . . . not . . . that would be awesome, thanks." Bellamy's face softens, and he reaches into his pack, pulling out a protein bar.

"Here, eat this." Clarke accepts it with a cautious smile.

"Thanks." She notices he's perched on a stool beside her, and spies a holo of Octavia on the wall. "Am I in your bed?"

Bellamy glances down, hiding beneath his curls. "Um, yes. My bunk was closer."

"So . . . I'm in your bed."

"Yes."

"Your . . . bed."

Bellamy lifts his eyebrows, exasperated. "No need to get so excited, Clarke, it's just until you're better."

Clarke snorts, sitting up more fully and taking a bite of the protein bar. Bellamy's hand comes to her shoulder to steady her, lingering a few seconds before dropping back down to his side. "How long was I out?" she asks, taking another bite.

"I brought you in about four hours ago." Clarke's eyes widen. "I checked in with the medbay, and they sent their regards. And some vitamins." She finishes the protein bar and another thought occurs to her.

"Commander Skywalker?"

"He's stable, thanks to you." Clarke lets out a sigh of relief. "And before you ask, you're under orders not to leave my bed until you have eaten a full meal."

Clarke rolls her eyes. "And how the hell am I supposed to get a meal without leaving your bed?" Bellamy doesn't miss a beat, scooting aside to reveal a small tray with soup and bread.

"I just got it, so it should still be hot. Or at least lukewarm."

"Thanks," Clarke murmurs, reaching for the bowl eagerly. "I owe you one."

Bellamy smirks. "I'll remember that."

 

~ . ~

 

The evacuation order comes out of nowhere.

"A fleet of Star Destroyers just came out of hyperspace," Raven tells her, "It's gonna be a hell of a day."

Leia finds her in the hall, telling her they are short on able gunners, and that she'll be assigned to one of the ground speeders providing defense for the base. "We need enough time to get our equipment out," she explains, "And you're good enough with a blaster, so I really need you to do this for us."

"Anything," Clarke assures her. Leia gives her a grim smile.

Neither wants to say goodbye, so Clarke simply wishes her luck and makes her way to the hangar where the speeders are kept.

Her jumpsuit and helmet are folded on the hood of her assigned speeder. As she's slipping into the jumpsuit, Octavia rushes over, eyes slightly wild.

"Oh, good," she mutters before looking Clarke in the eye. "Clarke, I need you to do me a huge favor."

Clarke blanches. "Um, I'm a little busy at the moment?"

"No, I just need you to tell Bella-"

"Clarke? Why the hell aren't you on an evac ship?" Bellamy asks, striding over, a deep frown on his face.

Clarke matches his frown as she finishes strapping into her jumpsuit. "I'm fixing to blow stormtroopers to bits, thank you very much." Bellamy blinks. "What?"

"This is my speeder." He looks over at Octavia. "And the job of gunner is already taken."

"I was assigned to this speeder," Clarke objects, "So maybe you just took a wrong turn-"

"He didn't," Octavia interjects, "Bell, Clarke is replacing me as your gunner."

"What," Bellamy deadpans. Clarke taps her fingers on her helmet awkwardly.

Octavia takes a deep breath. "I asked to be reassigned to Lincoln's speeder."

"The Zabrack bounty hunter?!" Bellamy asks, voice rising. "What the hell, O?"

"First off," Octavia growls, "He's an ex bounty hunter. Secondly, I am going to keep him safe and Clarke is more than able to keep you safe."

"Please don't bring me into this," Clarke begs under her breath, wanting to be anywhere but in the middle of this.

Bellamy laughs without humor. "Oh, don't worry, O, I see this whole thing clear as day. You just can't bear to leave your little fuckboy alone-"

"Bellamy!" Clarke hisses, "That's enough!" Octavia surges forward, but she jumps in between the seething siblings, a hand on each of their chests.

"You selfish, idiotic son of a bitch-" Octavia rattles off as Bellamy's eyes hone in on Lincoln, standing several yards away performing checks on his speeder.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Clarke shouts, stilling both Blakes. "I don't know if you've forgotten, but we have the wrath of the Empire about to rain down on us, and we all have jobs to do. So if you don't mind, I'd like you to settle this after we've escaped. Got it?"

"Yeah," Octavia mutters, "Sorry Clarke. Stay safe." She says nothing else, not even looking at Bellamy as she stalks back to her and Lincoln's speeder. Bellamy says nothing to Clarke, putting on his helmet and climbing into the speeder. Clarke follows suit, settling in with her back to him. She experiments with the gunner controls, and finds them surprisingly easy to control.

"Can I trust you to make shots when I tell you to take them?" Bellamy asks from behind her. She flexes her fingers on the trigger.

"Can I trust you to have some faith in me for once?" she retorts. He (wisely) says nothing in response as the hatch closes.

"This is Rogue three, ready for launch," he says into the comm.

"Rogue three, this is rogue leader, you are clear for launch. Proceed directly to the rendezvous point."

Bellamy brings the engine to life, and Clarke takes a deep breath. Her second battle, first on the front lines. She can do this. The speeder lifts off the ground, and Bellamy has them speeding out of the hanger and into the bright, desolate landscape of Hoth before she can blink.

"All wings report in," comes the voice of Rogue leader, and Bellamy chimes in.

"You knew," comes his accusing voice, this time not through the comms. "You knew about Octavia and Lincoln."

"Not right now, Bellamy," she sighs, "I'm about to fight in battle for the first time, so I would really appreciate it if I wouldn't have to worry about my own pilot shooting me in the back."

Bellamy mumbles something nonsensical, but doesn't push it.

She hears the sound of battle before she sees the red blaster bolts flying past the window. "Bellamy?" she questions.

"Get ready, Princess," he responds grimly.

He veers, suddenly, and Clarke spots the troopers in white. Bellamy gives her the cue, and she begins firing.

Clarke has good coordination. Perks of being a medic.

Even though she kind of wants to punch his face in, Clarke can't deny that Bellamy is a brilliant pilot. They work together perfectly, taking down troopers left and right.

"Nice shooting, Rogue three," comes Commander Skywalker's voice over the comms. "Is that Blake?"

"Nope," comes Octavia's smug voice, "It's Griffin."

Clarke grins. "Glad you're feeling better, Commander," she says, and Commander Skywalker chuckles in reply before they return full focus to the battle.

Bellamy turns without warning right as Clarke aims for a squadron raining blasts on the Alliance's ground troops, and she's about to hurl a curse his way when she sees the reason for his sudden maneuver.

"We're gonna die," she breathes as she lays eyes on the most massive machine she's ever seen: a full-fledged Imperial Walker. Bellamy wheels around.

"See if you can find a weak spot," he orders. Clarke aims at the walker's joints as Bellamy completes a circle around it, but nothing happens. They just manage to dodge a blast from its canons.

"The shields are too strong," Clarke growls, "And we won't last a second against its firepower."

"I'm aware," Bellamy replies.

They both breathe a sigh of relief when the retreat order is sounded, and they're told their ships are waiting beyond the battlefield.

"So am I going to be stuffed into your X-Wing's storage locker, or is the Alliance trusting me with my own ship?"

She still can't see Bellamy's face, but she's pretty sure he rolls his eyes.

"We're not taking my X-Wing."

"No?"

"I have my own ship. Stole it a few years back from some Coruscant crime lord who was arrested by the Empire to get off the planet. Has rooms, a kitchen, a meeting area, and all. O, Mom, and I lived out of it before we joined the Alliance."

Clarke doesn't even try to hide her awe as she asks, "What's she called?"

"The  _Aurora_." Clarke smiles.

"I bet she liked that." Bellamy chuckles.

"Oh, she did." He brings the speeder to a gentle halt, and begins to grab his things. "I had some droids load supplies onboard before stationing it here, so we should be good. Your personal stuff is on an evac ship, right?" Clarke nods, unbuckling herself and grabbing her pack. "Well, if you need to change, some of Octavia's old clothes are still onboard, so you can help yourself." He comes around to her side of the speeder, extending a hand to help her out, which she takes.

 

~ . ~

 

The _Aurora_ is actually pretty big. It's a smuggling ship, with a rugged look that makes it seem fresh from Corellia. She gives an impressed 'hmph' at it, drawing a smirk from Bellamy, who takes her pack from her and begins boarding the ship. Clarke turns back, just barely glancing the silhouette of an Imperial Walker advancing on Echo Base, handballs her hands in fists, dreaming of the days when she will no longer have to run.

She makes her way to the cockpit as Bellamy pulls in the entrance ramp, and takes a seat in the co-pilot's chair. Bellamy ignores her for the most part, only telling her to strap in as the  _Aurora_  takes off.

"Get to the rear guns, Clarke," Bellamy tells her as they ascend into the planet's atmosphere. "We're not out of the woods yet." Clarke pushes out of the seat and runs through the halls of the ship, Bellamy shouting directions as she does.

She gets to the turrets just in time. TIE fighters are all around them, and she just barely manages to shoot one out of the sky before Bellamy warns her he's punching in their hyperspace coordinates.

"Oh, but I'm having so much fun!" she replies mockingly. Bellamy mumbles something before Clarke feels the familiar stillness and then launch into lightspeed.

"Princess, get in the cockpit, we have a problem."

Clarke maneuvers into the cockpit, and Bellamy turns in his seat to give her a less than pleased smile.

"What is it?" she asks, sitting back down.

"We can't go to the rendezvous point. We're being tracked."

"It must have been that TIE," Clarke muses later, sitting in the small living room at the ship's center. Bellamy sits across from her, biting his lip in annoyance. "It got the honing beacon on us before I blew it up. There's no other explanation."

"How it got on us doesn't matter," Bellamy mutters, "What matters is not leading the Empire to the rest of the fleet."

"Then we need to set a new course," Clarke guesses. Bellamy nods. "Alright, well, we need a system where we can disappear and get rid of the beacon."

Bellamy grabs a datapad, pulling up a map. "We're nowhere close to any significantly populated systems," he murmurs thoughtfully. "There's Hutt space, but they could easily track us anywhere in the Outer Rim." Clarke opens her mouth to reply, but a sudden thought strikes her and she pauses. Bellamy looks over at her. "Got an idea?"

She hesitates. "It's either beyond genius or gonna get us killed."

Bellamy leans forward. "Lucky for you, I like taking risks." Clarke bites her bottom lip, and then reaches for his data pad, pulling up the system's coordinates.

"Well," she says, "We need to go to the last place they would expect the Alliance to be, right?" He nods, and she hands the datapad back to him. "The Alliance would never hide in the heart of the Empire."

He stares at the datapad, then looks up at her, then back at the data pad. "You're crazy."

She stares right back. "Yes. And?"

"Now," Bellamy says, "The Imperials are probably going to be in hot pursuit, so we need to get that beacon and get it far away from our ship the second we land."

"Simple enough," Clarke replies, coughing awkwardly. "Avoid the Empire at its capitol while simultaneously carrying around a tracking device."

"This was YOUR plan, Princess."

"I feel like it's easier in theory . . ."

"Too late to change our minds now," he interrupts, "We're about to drop out of hyperspace."

 

~ . ~

 

The Rodian spaceport manager lazily looks Bellamy and Clarke up and down lazily, his beady eyes expressing nothing but boredom as he takes in their hastily scrapped together civilian attire.

"This isn't going to work," Clarke grits out, lips not moving. Bellamy pokes her hard in the side.

"So do we have a deal or not?" he asks. The Rodian shrugs, accepting the credits and waving them off without saying a thing.

Clarke buys them some new clothes, including cloaks to hide her telling blonde hair. They weave through the streets at a near-run, Clarke gripping the beacon beneath the coarse fabric of her cloak. Her other hand finds its way into Bellamy's, but only because they can't get separated. Only because of that, alright?

Stormtroopers are everywhere, and their white armor is a stark contrast to the soot-covered underbelly of Coruscant. Bellamy's grip tightens whenever a new one rounds a corner.

"Ouch," Clarke complains under her breath (he has a very strong grip, okay?). Bellamy casts a sidelong glare her way.

"If you look any tenser, we might as well stamp Alliance insignia on our foreheads," she mutters.

"When I need your valuable help, Griffin, rest assured I shall humbly ask for it," Bellamy snaps as they slip into an old alleyway. "Here, still have the device?"

"No, I dropped it by the fruit vendors," Clarke answers with an eye roll. "Of course I do, here," she huffs, thrusting the clunky beacon from underneath her cloak into his hands. He hides it under a few spare parts that have piled up near a wall.

They leave quickly, hearing the sound of a patrol undoubtedly looking for them.

Bellamy doesn't want to risk returning to the Aurora for at least another day, in case the patrols tracking the signature wanted to trace their steps, so they duck into a seedy motel near the club district.

The room is small, and of course there's only one bed, because life simply isn't fair. Bellamy's eyes drift from the bed, to Clarke, and back to the bed again.

"I'll take the floor," he mumbles. Clarke frowns.

"Bellamy, we're both adults, I think we can handle sharing a bed," she says, trying for a condescending tone but failing miserably.

Bellamy arches an eyebrow. "You think?"

"Yup!" Clarke squeaks, blushing when her voice cracks like a hormonal teenager. "It's totally fine. Totally cool. Yeah."

Bellamy blinks. "Okay."

Clarke slips under the covers first, wincing when a lingering odor hits her nose. "I know we were desperate and all, but I feel like the sewers would have been more sanitary," she mutters. Bellamy snorts, slipping in beside her.

"We'll be back with the fleet and their nice, clean bunkers in no time," he says with a warm chuckle. "Goodnightm Princess."

"I'm not a princess."

"Of course, of course."

They both lie in silence for a moment, staring resolutely at the ceiling. Bellamy's fingers tap a quick, nervous rhythm on the sheets. Clarke shifts so that she's on her side, facing him. He turns his head to look back at her.

"What was it like?" she asks quietly.

"What?"

"Growing up here, on Coruscant. What was it like?" Bellamy breaks their gaze, looking up thoughtfully, as if reaching for something buried away.

"Fucked up." Clarke can't help it, she barks out a laugh at the dry tone in his voice, but his expression doesn't change. "That was only a bit of a joke, you know." Clarke mellows, eyes apologetic. "Most people live in the Undercity. The Upper City is too expensive for normal people to afford, and it's usually full of off-worlders and senators, anyways."

"My parents rented an apartment in the Upper City," Clarke murmurs. Bellamy smiles without humor.

"Exactly." His eyes aren't cold, however, when he continues. "You know that none of the light down here is real? All artificial. Above us is an artificial ground so that the Upper City can pretend we don't exist, built centuries ago. The light runs on a schedule, so that we're on the same clock as the rest of the planet." Clarke's eyes widen.

"But when we landed-"

"Spaceports are an exception. I know a guy, so I got us in a better spot than most others. A lot of lower spaceports, the ones smugglers use, have tunnels to take the ships underground." Clarke blinks.

"Huh." Bellamy chuckles at her dumbfounded expression. She shifts. "How did you fall in with the Alliance?"

"Our mom worked as a bartender in the Twilight Zone, the entertainment district connecting the Upper and Lower levels. O and I would usually pickpocket from richer people in the club to help put food on the table, since she didn't get paid shit and the rich fuckers were lousy tippers.

"Then, one day, a squadron of stormtroopers came in, demanding free service in return for 'all the good' they've done for us. Of course, the manager refused, so the stormtroopers shot him dead on the spot."

Clarke gasps, horrified.

"That's when our mom started digging for information on the Alliance. We all wanted to join. So we saved up our credits for a few years, I stole the ship, and the rest is history, I suppose."

He's turned too, so that they're both facing each other, faces inches apart. Outside, Clarke can hear the sounds of drunken conversation, speeders overhead, and the ever-present electric hum of the city.

"Everyone knew," she says softly. Bellamy furrows his brow, questioning. "On Alderaan," she clarifies, "-everyone knew the Organas were leading the rebellion. But nobody minded, really. We were raised to love our home, and what our home stood for. Our parents weren't allowed to teach about the Jedi in school, but they were our bedtime stories, the subjects of our games, the objects of our dreams. We were a part of the Empire in name, but in spirit, we were free." She sighs. "I should've known it wasn't going to survive."

Bellamy's hand brushes against her shoulder and down her arm, before wrapping around her hand. "Hey. Alderaan lives on in what we're doing. It lives on in the survivors. You know that."

Clarke blinks at him, mystified. "You sound like Dodonna or Ackbar." He smiles.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

 

~ . ~

 

Clarke doesn't remember falling asleep like this.

Her back is enveloped in solid warmth, something heavy draped lazily over her side. Warm air tickles her neck, coming in a steady pattern.

It doesn't take her long to figure out the warm air is actually breath, and the solid warmth is Bellamy, curled around her, his arm draped across her side and his face buried in her hair.

She freezes, absolutely at a loss for what to do. On one hand, he's extremely comfortable, and obviously in very good shape. Physically.

(Morning erections are perfectly natural, Clarke, calm down.)

He stirs, shifting groggily. Clarke decides to just feign sleep, shutting her eyes tightly. Bellamy sits up with a sleepy groan.

"You can wake up from your fake sleep now, Clarke," he says after a minute of silence. Clarke sits up with a huff, wiping the sleep from her eyes and matting down her hair. "Time to go home."

 

~ . ~

 

The trip takes nearly a week, but when they do finally reach the rendezvous, Clarke's heart jumps in relief.

Octavia and Raven are the first to greet them. Octavia practically tackles Bellamy to the ground, tears of relief in her eyes. Bellamy apologizes into her hair, hugging her tightly to himself.

Raven pulls Clarke into a tight embrace. "We were freaked out," she murmurs, "But I knew you two would get back to us." The rest of the Gray Squadron is quick to find them, and Clarke's afternoon is full of hugs and happy tears.

Leia finds her last, eyes tired and sad. She looks like she's aged years instead of weeks. She tells Clarke of her escape on the Falcon, of running from Star Destroyers, of a planet of clouds, of carbonite.

She doesn't mention Captain Solo by name, and that tells Clarke everything she needs to know.

"You love him," Clarke says softly. Leia looks at her with a wry, humorless smile.

"Yes," the princess replies softly, voice sure as Clarke has ever heard it. "Just as you love Captain Blake." Clarke's eyes widen.

"Oh, no- we. Um. We're not. It's not-"

"Clarke," Leia interjects gently, "I am not blind. Love in its purest form is easy to see." Clarke says nothing, stunned into silence. "Believe me, I know. The lives we lead . . . they limit us. We give everything and get very little in return. Do not waste what precious time you do have because you're afraid."

"H-he doesn't-"

A voice sounds through the comms, requesting Leia's presence on the bridge. Leia rises.

"Will you search for him?" Clarke asks before she reaches the door. Leia pauses, not turning.

"Nothing can stop me."

The door closes with a quiet whoosh, and Clarke is left alone, staring out into space.

Safe Haven is outside the galaxy itself, outside even the farthest reaches of the Outer Rim. The galaxy itself is bright and visible, the swirl of stars boasting a spectacular view. Clarke's eyes seek out the small, bleak space where Alderaan used to be, and shuts her eyes, allowing herself to remember.

Does she love Bellamy? Is it possible for her to love, when her home is gone, parents are dead, and life is dedicated to a mostly hopeless cause?

" _Clarke_ ," a gruff voice buzzes into her comlink. " _Princess. You there_?"

"Yes, Bell, I'm here. What do you want?"

" _Just checking in, making sure you're still alive. You know, since you can't seem to manage without me_."

"Fuck off, Blake," Clarke laughs.

" _Care to join me_?"

"Okay, this conversation is over," Clarke says with a grin, moving to turn her comlink off. The smile, however remains. "Blast," she mutters, realization hitting her like a rock, "I love you."

She sits down, ready to ruminate on her newfound feelings in peace, when she hears Bellamy's voice again, this time from the doorway.

"What?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever. I'm so sorry, life just got insanely busy. Need me to translate any super nerdy stuff? Leave a comment aand I'll clear things up! Or just leave a comment anyways. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> The Tantive IV is the starship seen at the beginning of A New Hope.


End file.
